Having spent the past four years of my life as a student of Marymount, I can say with complete honesty that my high school experience has been indescribably rewarding, impactful and memorable. This article, however, is not about the fun I had, how much I grew as a person, or the lessons that I learned. Rather, it is about something much more specific. This article encapsulates my biggest regret and synthesizes the advice that I want to bestow upon all of my younger Marymount sisters.

I love writing. Since sophomore year when I started really getting serious about how much time and effort I put into my essays, I realized just how passionate I was about crafting the perfect essay, writing a persuasive paper, and journaling my ideas. As someone who has an overwhelming amalgamation of thoughts and opinions, writing became the outlet through which I could organize and compress my mental chaos, editing and tailoring it specifically for those who had the inclination to read it. Though it may sound crazy and borderline masochistic, I loved writing my college application essays. The open-ended prompts that gave me the freedom to write about my life experience and things that mattered to me were like a dream come true. I spent hours writing, rewriting and rewriting again to perfect the words that I typed into what limited space was provided to me. What the rest of the college application process and standardized testing lacked in charm and allure, the essays compensated with their grounds for freedom of expression. My discovery of writing as an outlet led me to promise myself that I would become more active in The Anchor, and to no longer just serve as an editor, but to write my own articles and contribute my insights to the publication. There were so many article ideas running through my head during the summer, and I really couldn’t wait to make them a reality when the time came. “I’m going to make the most of this year” I told myself in the final weeks of July, preparing for the infamously stressful first semester of senior year. I pledged to not lose sight of what was important to my mental health and inner balance amidst the chaos, deadlines and assignments that ensued.

However, like many other personal goals and intentions we set for ourselves, my promise to write articles for The Anchor slowly faded away, forgotten among the dozens of calculus quizzes, physics labs and government readings. By the cruel and unforgiving process of “prioritization”, I put my desire on the backburner, switching it out instead for what I’d been told was crucial to my chances of getting into the university. Once a month I was reminded of this sad truth when we would brainstorm article ideas for the next month’s issue; I would listen to other people’s suggestions, and presents my own ideas. Occasionally, I would even write down a title for an article I ardently wanted to write myself; but when the time came, I never wrote my name next to commit to it. “I have so much to do this week” “I have x amount of tests next week” “I won’t be able to write it the way I want to, there’s no way I have enough time.” These were the excuses I came up with to counter my guilt and frustration.

It is now May. The class of 2015 is graduating in three days, and I’ve finally sat myself down to write my first, and sadly, my last article for The Anchor. At this point in time, I have two options. I could wallow in regret and continue chiding myself for the opportunities that I’ve allowed to pass me by. Or, I can reflect on it, learn from it, and move forward, in hopes of becoming more aware and taking this experience with me to college. Unsurprisingly, I’ve opted for the latter and, in writing this article, I’ve taken the first step of reflection.

If I could impart any one piece of advice onto anyone reading, it would be this: don’t lose sight of what’s important to you. If you’re passionate about something, make time for it. Instead of watching that extra episode of Pretty Little Liars or Vampire Diaries, or surfing aimlessly on Instagram and Buzzfeed, pursue something that has attracted your interest, even a little bit. Join a new team, take an art class, join the musical, start a club, go on one of the many service learning opportunities. Though all of these things may seem simple, they can truly change the way you live your life and give you a new set of eyes through which to see the world. I had such an experience when I went with Mr. Klein and a few other Marymount girls to serve sandwiches to the homeless. Though it was a relatively short amount of time, about six hours, my experience not only shifted the way I viewed the homeless, but also made me aware of how grateful I should be for all of the gifts that I have been blessed with in my life.

In closing, I’ll leave you with a quote I read recently that partially inspired this article. But just a warning, I made some minor changes to make it more applicable, and more in sync with our feminist ideals. “Don’t wait for extraordinary opportunities. Seize common occasions and make them great. Weak [women] wait for opportunities; strong [women] make them.” –Orison Swett Marden